


As The Dust Settles

by tulomne



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic II: The Sith Lords
Genre: F/M, Stranded in the desert, They have a speeder AU, sorry I’m a shit writer I have to just have that in there okay, there’s a space for one on the Ebon Hawk and everything okay this is fine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2018-07-15 13:33:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7224409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tulomne/pseuds/tulomne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>KOTOR II spoilers below<br/>The sith triumvirate has been vanquished, and the last Jedi Masters are gone. For the band of jedi responsible for it all, what comes next? And where does a former sith trooper and an exile fit into it? Stranded in a land that’s devoid of the Force and seemingly everything else, the two struggle to deal with where they’ve been, and what the future holds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’ll be honest, I loved the game, but KOTOR II was so disjointed and hard to follow. Even with the restored content, I feel like they were trying to tackle something a lot larger than they could handle. This is my attempt to make sense of it. I really want to focus on Atton and Meetra’s characters, their pasts, and how they could move on from that. I don’t have a lot of EU knowledge other than these games and what I’ve managed to grab here and there from comics I’ve begun reading, so bear with me if I’m not getting something right.  
> Atton is newly a Jedi, so his force skills are very rough, and Meetra has pretty recently learned about Atton’s past life. I think the whole “Revan leaves forever and Meetra leaves forever” trend is bullshit so this is an alternate interpretation. Assume all of the companions that can become Jedi became Jedi. I didn’t bother with full influence with Mandalore, HK-47 or G0T0 so I’m not sure what you get from them. Also going with the assumption that all of them made it off of Malachor V, and that Bao Dur was just on the Ebon Hawk, rather than with the others.  
> Enjoy.

The _Ebon Hawk_ takes off with a shuddering gasp of hydraulics, each collide of falling debris rocking the ship as it navigates its way out of the crumbling remains of Malachor V. Sparking wires and distorted pieces of metal litter the cabin floor, and the crew rushes about to patch what they can to get to hyperspace. The portside dormitory seems folded in two, some of the bunks bent so that they resemble reclined seats rather than beds, and the entirety of the cargo hold has been practically inverted, ugly spikes of metal forcing their way from the outside in.

Bao-Dur is at work welding the hold, attempting to reinforce what won’t survive if they attempt a jump anytime soon. Across the room Mical rips sheet metal from the inside walls of the ship for material, knowing he does not have the knowledge to fix but is trying to do what he can to help. HK-47 and Visas work the hallways, the latter holding broken pieces in place while the droid melds them together. In the cockpit, Atton and Mira are overriding systems, bypassing others, and trying to force the ship into hyperspace despite its complaints.

“Our navigation’s been overridden!” Atton shouts from up front. “We’ll be flying blind if we don’t change our course. Get that rust bucket up here and _make_ it deactivate the voice lock!”

Meetra’s head is pounding. Kreia’s death gashes at her mind like a wound in her side, and the crew’s thoughts are pouring into her head. Doubts and calculations and distractions and something else. A promise asked of her, from someone whom she’d never met but somehow knew exactly what he’d gone through, and a droid who had held their own promises with the man. She pushes through the clouding of her mind and makes her way to the astromech droid, who’s back at the hyperdrive.

“Teethree, we _need_ to know where we’re headed,” her voice is barely audible over the alarms and rock hailing on the ship. “You aren’t seriously considering taking us to _Revan_ , are you?”

The droid is unresponsive. A desperate groan escapes Meetra’s lips.

“Teethree, you _have_ to help us!”

Three things happen in rapid succession. Malachor V erupts, sending a blast wave that rocks the ship, its inner contents jolted from their spots. Atton makes the jump to hyperspace shortly after, headed to a destination unknown at lightspeed. And Meetra is thrown against the ship’s walls, smacking her head against the metal and finally being granted with the silence to clear her mind.

 

The first thing she notices is how still she feels. She quickly dismisses the idea that they had fixed the ship so well that it was cruising peacefully through space, and concludes that they must be landed. The second thing she notices is the stinging pain coming from her left temple. Her eyes open to the blinding lights of the medical bay as she struggles to sit up.

“Careful now, don’t need you going back under.” Mira calls from the other side of the room where she’s seated on the floor. “You missed all the fun stuff...You know, I’m beginning to question our fearless pilot. I think we crash more often than we land.”

Meetra feels her head with a delicate hesitation. There’s a large lump, and she traces the dried blood caked in her hair with a frown. There’s no healing herself when her head’s pounding like it is. She’ll have to wait until she can focus. Almost on cue, Visas appears in the doorway.

“You’ve awoken,” she says, heading to Meetra’s side with the same eerie grace she’s always had. She reaches towards Meetra tentatively. “Do you need help?”

Meetra swings her legs to the side of the bed and waves Visas off of her.

“I’m fine.” It might have been more convincing if she hadn’t winced in the middle of it.

“It will not take long, you need to rest.” Visas insists. Meetra relents. Visas runs her hand cautiously over Meetra’s injury, the silence hanging awkwardly between the three of them. Somehow Visas manages to make her feel like she’s being watched without eyesight. It’s always been a little disconcerting, the way the Miraluka had devoted herself to Meetra so wholly, but she brushes it off as an odd form of affection. The pain fades to a dull ache, and Visas steps away while Meetra stands. Mira and Visas follow Meetra out to the main hold.

Atton does a double take as Meetra joins him, Mical, and Bao-Dur across the glitching map displaying in the center of the room. The cabin is uncomfortably warm - they must have lost environment control when the ship crashed. Their voices echo softly in the back of Meetra’s mind, but she ignores them, trying to keep her headache from worsening.

“Good, I-” Atton clears his throat. “ _We_ were getting worried. Last thing we need is someone out while we’re down.”

“Heard we came in a little rough,” Meetra chides. Whatever expression he had previously been wearing turns to a scowl, his eyes flicking over to where Mira leans against the wall.

“You try landing this thing with half power and no navigation, then we’ll talk.” He returns.

At the thought of the navigation controls, Meetra glances about the room. T3-M4 is nowhere to be found. Bao-Dur watches her movements until he catches her eye.

“We broke down before we found our destination,” he explains. “Teethree can’t help us here.”

“Where are we then?” Meetra asks. The map displaying on the holoscreen is indeterminable and flickering. The planet looks barren from what she can catch between blinks of the display. Atton curses as he smacks the console with his fist, making the already dim projection waver in protest.

“Somewhere along the Tion cluster, but exactly where I’m not sure.” He hits the dashboard again for good measure. “I saw a fueling station due east before we went down, hopefully they’ll have the parts we need.”

“I’ve managed to patch up the speeder in the garage.” Bao-Dur provides. “It can carry two at most with supplies.”

“I’ll go.” Meetra meets questioning stares with an unwavering gaze. Their voices increase, garbled and worrying and doubtful.

“You sure? I mean, you did just take a hyperdrive to the face.” Mira comments. And fight three Sith lords. She doesn’t say it, but the message is conveyed.

“I will accompany you,” Mical adds. “If you will have me.” Atton’s scowl turns to a full frown, glaring from Meetra to Mical.

“No offense bud,” Atton says. “But even if you knew what parts we needed, you wouldn’t last five seconds in the kind of place we’re headed.” Bao-Dur, who seems if anything entertained by the situation, leans over to Meetra as Mical counters.

“Sure you’re okay to go, General?”

“I’ll be fine.” She repeats. “I just need to get out a bit. It’s kind of....loud here.” He gives a short nod. Bao-Dur’s thoughts have been surprisingly quiet since their departure from Malachor. Whether it’s for her benefit, or his own healing, she’s grateful.

“I don’t want to attract scavengers, so I’m going to take communications offline. I’ll send a signal out at dawn for you to find your way back. I’ll give you our frequencies.” Meetra nods, turning her attention back to the argument.

“If you think I’m gonna spend my time sweltering away in this metal box with nothing but droids and _you_ for company, you’ve got another thing coming.” Atton finishes. Mical sighs, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. The lights flicker in the cabin, ending the feud. The sooner they head out, the better.

They load up the speeder with food, water and other supplies, while Atton and Meetra prepare for the trip. The station couldn’t be more than a day’s travel away if they keep up decent speed, but given their luck, they’re taking no chances. The door to the hold lowers onto the planet’s surface, and the crew step out onto the unknown world.

The ship’s landed in what seems like a dried up canyon, former riverbed stretching on for miles before the rise of the ridges of the canyon. There’s something else - an emptiness that goes beyond the nothingness that plagues the barren wasteland. Meetra tightens her cloak around her face as the wind picks up. The air is thin and dry, and the two suns beat down on the parched earth intensely. Her clothing is lightweight and covers every inch of her body, no weapons other than her lightsaber that hangs heavily from her belt loops under her cloak. She can already feel the beads of sweat on the back of her neck. Atton’s right, the _Ebon Hawk_ is going to be nothing but an oven until they get their systems back online.

“Oh, I don’t think so.” She warns as Atton swings his leg over the speeder seat.

“I’m the pilot, I’m driving.” he counters.

“Flying the ship hardly gives you rights to any transportation we happen to use.” Atton adjusts his cloak to make room for her, not showing any signs of moving.

“You can drive the way back. Deal?” Meetra groans, joining him on the speeder behind him. She sends a lazy salute back to Bao-Dur, who returns it with slightly more formality before following Visas and Mical back on the ship. Mira raises her eyebrows, glancing from Meetra to Atton, and turns away without a word. The worn-out engine roars to life, and Atton glances over his shoulder, smirking. “You better hold on.” She keeps her hands gripped on the seat behind her, glaring at him from beneath her hood. He revs the engine, jumping the speeder forward a few feet, and she flings her arms around his waist on impulse.

“Asshole.” She murmurs. He starts forward, slower this time, and soon enough they’re zipping across the harsh desert, wind whipping her cloak behind her like a tattered banner. She adjusts her position so her hands rest lightly on his hips, turning to watch the _Ebon Hawk_ grow smaller and smaller, until it’s no more than a pinprick on the horizon.

They’ll be fine. The main systems of the _Ebon Hawk_ are functional. They could last for months, albeit sweaty, uncomfortable months, but months nonetheless, before they started running into trouble. A question looms over her head. And then what? What do they do after the ship is fixed? The wind is deafening, allowing her to push the idea from her mind, and let her thoughts fade to static. The walls of the canyon grow before them, blocking out the sun when they get too close. The shadows provide instant relief from the heat, and Meetra curses their luck for not landing in the shade. Atton slows the speeder to skim the canyon’s perimeter, searching for an opening. After a few minutes they find a part in the rock, jagged narrows inviting them away from the riverbed. They both take one last look at the ship before disappearing into the canyon lands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's sort of short but I promise they'll get longer as I go along ;xa


	2. Chapter 2

They spend the next few hours in comfortable silence. The engine provides too much noise for any type of discussion anyways, not that they had much to say. Atton whips around the turns of the canyon, making last minute direction changes and ramping off small piles of sandstone. Meetra cranes her neck to catch his expression. He’s grinning, focused, enjoying his time on the speeder a little too much for why they’re there.

“If you’re taking a longer route just so you can play pod racing...” Meetra warns. Atton chuckles in response. Above the skyscraper-like canyon walls, the sky is a bright blue, contrasting starkly against the vibrant orange of the sandstone. The only thing keeping them on track is the navigation on the bike, and the position of the suns in the sky.

It takes less than half the day before their plan goes to shit.

Meetra senses it just before it appears: a forcefield of some sort, spanning across the width of the canyon. She has just enough time to grab Atton’s elbow and tug as she sends the speeder into a sideways drift before they hit. They pass through the forcefield unscathed, but the speeder instantly drops from the sky. The two are dumped onto the ground, tumbling in the dust until they come to a stop. The speeder crashes against the canyon wall, landing in a crumpled heap.

“Stars and space,” Atton curses, dragging a hand across his face. Meetra pulls herself up from her position half sprawled across his chest.

“You alright?” She asks, grimacing as her body protests the sudden movement. It takes a few seconds for Atton to notice their proximity, and he looks up at her with raised eyebrows.

“Doing better now.” He replies, shit-eating grin wide on his face. Meetra rolls her eyes, getting to her feet and shaking the sand out of her cloak onto him. What had started out as a white outfit is now tinged rusty from the red dirt. He sputters in disgust before looking back to the forcefield, which seems unaffected by their passing. “What _was_ that?” Meetra approaches the forcefield cautiously as Atton gets up to tend to the bike. The sensors seem melded into the canyon walls, almost as if they were carved from the rock. Pieces of machinery litter the ground from similar crashes, nothing of value at first glance.

“I bet Bao-Dur can tell us.” Meetra comments.

“Well he’ll have to wait.” Atton replies. “Comms are down. Repulsorlift generator’s dead too. And unless I’m mistaken, we’re gonna have scavs crawling all over this place in no time unless we get out of here.” Meetra frowns.

“How far do you think we’ve got?” She had expected getting lost, not losing their only mode of transportation and communication along the way.

“On the speeder? Maybe half a day.” Atton sets the speeder right side up. He glances her way, looking her up and down before turning back to the bike. “Without it, who knows.”

Meetra watches as the pilot unfastens their supplies from the bike. With the sudden absence of their speeder, she’s overwhelmingly aware of Atton’s presence. Kreia’s words ring in her head. It all seems so surreal. Had she really asked if he loved her? Did Kreia’s response merit anything at this point?

Atton drops both saddle bags to the ground, having fashioned straps from the leather that bound them to the bike.

“Take your pick.” He meets her eyes for a moment before returning to the bike to yank the communication system from it. Whatever the answers to her questions were, they would have to wait.

One of their canteens had cracked during the crash, emptying the water into the sand below. Meetra looks up to the suns that blaze overhead. The wind had kept the heat down while they were traveling, and now beads of sweat were dripping down her face. She’s already thirsty. This isn’t good, but if anything, at least the trap proves that they’re headed towards civilization, and that the path they’re taking is a common one.

They leave their bike behind in haste, not wanting to meet up with whoever set up the forcefield, and continue down the canyon path. The atmosphere is thin, and it takes all their concentration just to keep moving forward. The heat is scorching, burning through their clothes and stinging their skin when mixed with their sweat. Meetra’s headache has returned, but she can’t find the energy to heal it away. She still feels the void, as if her abilities are slowly draining. Like a clogged sink. Or a wounded animal bleeding out. Atton leads the way, every now and then glancing back at her. A few times he opens his mouth to speak, but he never gets a word out before returning to what is ahead of him.

As they walk the canyon widens, opening to an empty expanse of sandstone before the next section of narrows. Perhaps centuries ago this had been a lake, but there’s no trace of water anywhere now. The wind howls across the land, kicking up sand and obscuring their already questionable path. The suns are sinking lower into the sky, and the temperature has already dropped significantly. They make it to the other side of the opening just as it gets dark. The moon is like a spotlight on the land, and the stars from the cluster make it easy to see without light. They find a place to rest just inside one of the cuts in the rock leading supposedly towards the station. It’s quiet, save for the wind whistling across the desert.

“I’ll take first watch.” Meetra offers, breaking the silence they’d held for hours after leaving the bikes.

“You sure?” Atton’s reply is surprisingly direct. All the excitement of the day is gone, and the newfound length of their journey seems more real than ever. No time for charades.

“I’ll wake you when I need to.” And with that the conversation dies. She doesn’t mention that it doesn’t matter if she took first shift or the whole night, she won’t be finding sleep anytime soon. Or at least voluntarily. She wonders if her body took advantage to grab a few hours of rest while she was unconscious. In truth, she hadn’t really slept since the events at Dantooine.

Atton curls up beside one of the walls of the canyon, while Meetra takes her place nearby the entrance to the open area, just barely out of reach from the moon’s light. This planet is strange. There’s a profound emptiness that expands beyond its lack of sentient life. Meetra knows what it is, has experienced something similar before. Like Nar Shadaa, but the other end of the spectrum. This world is devoid of the Force. Does Atton notice? Is the only reason she knows because of what she is? Some kind of channel for the Force? Does it twist her stomach and make her head ache because she knows she can gain nothing from this land?

She shivers as she pulls her cloak tighter around her body. If only the chill in the air could help her thirst. Her tongue feels heavy and thick in her mouth, and her throat clenches painfully with each dry swallow. They’re going to be in trouble if they don’t find water fast. The small sips they’d been taking from their only canteen had done nothing to put their bodies at ease, and even that was empty now.

She spends the night watching the stars slowly make their way across the sky. She sees Tion, glowly slightly in the distance. If she were more familiar with the region she’d be able to pinpoint where they are, what planet they’re on, but it remains a mystery. The night passes without event, and the temperature begins to climb before the suns break the canyon’s walls. Atton wakes just as the light fills the narrow, blinking in slight confusion before meeting Meetra’s gaze.

“So much for taking shifts,” He grumbles, his tone more concerned than annoyed. He looks disoriented, and she wonders when was the last time he had a full night’s rest. “Don’t think I’m gonna be carrying you across the desert when you get too tired to walk.” Meetra smirks, tossing him his bag.

“Mical would’ve carried me.” Atton’s disgust is clear on his face.

“Mical would’ve gotten lost.” Atton begins, grabbing his bag and flinging it over his shoulder. “ _Mical_ would’ve turned back to the _Ebon Hawk_ and gotten us all stranded indefinitely. _Mical_ would’ve-” He catches her entertained expression. “Nevermind.”

Their breakfast consists of dry ration bars that form a chalky coating in their mouths without water to wash it down. This canyon is thinner than the last one, and the shade provides much needed relief from the harsh rays of the suns. They don’t see any other signs of life, and the possibility that they chose the wrong path becomes greater as time goes on. Unfortunately, there’s nothing they can do but keep moving.

They walk for a few hours before Meetra breaks the silence.

“So what don’t you like about Mical?” Atton avoids her eyes, seemingly more interested in the canyon walls than her expectant expression.

“He’s creepy!” Atton’s face is screwed up in disgust. “He thinks just because he met you once forever ago that you’re his destiny or something.”

“I knew Bao-Dur before. We get along pretty well.” Meetra glances at Atton from the corner of her eye. He keeps his eyes straight ahead.

“That’s different. He doesn’t act like…”

“Like what?”

“Like he’s in love with you! The guy follows you around like a lost pet! Ready to bend over backwards to treat you like some princess!” He glances her way before quickly turning looking to the walls. “...you deserve better than that.” She can’t tell if the flush on his cheeks is any different than what the heat is providing.

“Thanks.” He turns to her, surprised look on his face.

“For what?”

“I don’t know, just...thanks.” Silence falls, no sound other than the wind and an odd rumbling noise in the distance.

“Do you hear…” Atton doesn’t get a chance to finish, Meetra is already sprinting through the canyon, taking sharp turns and sliding on the stone until she comes across an intersection between two rifts in the rock, where a small stream trickles across their path. Meetra falls to her knees at the water, cupping her hands to take a drink. She lets the water spill down her neck, cool and refreshing against her parched skin. She pauses. The rumbling is coming from upstream. Meetra takes off just as Atton rounds the last corner.

The stream grows in size, connecting with other cuts in the canyon until it’s about as wide as she is tall. She can’t help but laugh, overcome with happiness at the sight of such a simple thing. But this means more than just that. Where there’s water, there’s life. They must be headed in the right direction. She keeps running until she turns a corner and stops.

The canyon opens to a cove, the water collecting to a shallow pool, and a small waterfall pours down from the canyon wall that juts towards the sky, blocking the sun and throwing the whole area in shadow. She lets her bag fall to her side as she yanks off her cloak, tugging her boots off as she goes. Atton is quick to follow and before they know it they’re both waist deep in the water, cloaks and shirts forgotten.

It’s like they’re children again, shouting and laughing and splashing the water back and forth. It happens quickly - she reaches out to him as he leans in. They kiss, hard and wet and full of what little energy they have left. Meetra pulls back quickly, opening her eyes to find that he seems just as surprised as she is. He huffs out a laugh before cupping her face with his hands and closing the gap again. Of course, this was bound to happen. It should have been obvious, and perhaps it was. He snakes his arm around her waist, pulling her flush against his body, while she wraps her arms around his neck. It’s overwhelming, how good it feels to be this close. She can’t recall the last time she touched someone without the intent to harm. Meetra pulls away when the impulsiveness fades from her system.

“ _Well_...” Atton breaks the silence.

“-Don’t ruin it.” She stops him before he can continue. “I’m still not convinced that this isn’t all in my head.” He scoffs.

“You saying you dream about me?” And with that, Meetra pushes him away with a groan. They turn away from each other, Meetra taking a moment to let the water pour over her body, slicking her hair down as it hits her shoulders and back. Her heart is ramming against her ribcage, and she hopes the coolness of the water will slow it down. Atton’s quiet, but his thoughts seep into her head all the same. He’s playing pazaak. It puts her at ease, knowing that he must not be as calm and collected as he seems.

Eventually they drag themselves out to the pebbled ground, pulling on the rest of their clothes and filling their canteen. Meetra begins checking supplies while Atton stares at the wall of rock that lies before them.

“We gotta go up, don’t we.” He says. “It’s like a maze down here, we could be walking in circles for all we know.”

“Yup,” Meetra responds, focusing on counting out their remaining food. A few days’ worth of ration bars and a couple dehydrated meals. It’s not a lot, but they can stretch what they have. She frowns as she dumps out the rest of their supplies. “You brought pazaak.” The irritation shows in her tone.

“It was in there already!” Atton defends. “I didn’t purposely bring it!” Meetra glares, not sure if he’s lying or not.

“If we run out of food, you get to eat the cards.” She begins packing everything away, including her cloak, leaving out only a large length of rope, which she loops her arm through. “I’ll go first.”

The wall is intimidating, but hardly impossible. The sandstone provides numerous nooks and crannies for hand holds, and there’s a ledge about halfway up the wall that they can take a break at. Her bag is heavy, and her lightsaber swings dangerously from the belt loop she has it hanging from. She worries the fabric might snap under the weight, and quickens her pace until she reaches the ledge, about thirty feet up. The waterfall trickles from above, its source unknown. It’s windier at the top. She squints out into the horizon briefly. Nothing. At first glance, she can’t even find the lakebed where they stayed the night before.

Meetra finds a place in the rock to pull her rope through, creating a makeshift pulley she can belay Atton from. She slips on a thick pair of gloves before looping one end of the rope through her belt, knotting it, and tossing the other end back down into the ravine. After a few moments she feels a slight tug on the rope, and she begins to pull in the slack as Atton ascends. The wind is picking up, and Meetra wishes she had the protection of her cloak to aid her. He appears shortly, climbing up the last few footholds before the ridge.

“Nice view up there?” He shouts over the wind, a few feet from pulling himself up on the ledge. Meetra chances another glance out onto the canyonland and starts. The sky is dark, and an indeterminable cloud has appeared on the horizon. It looks like a thunderstorm, but far too low to the ground, and moving far too fast.

“Atton, quick.” Meetra’s voice hardly conceals her panic. She’s fumbling with the rope, not sure if she should untie herself or not. Atton picks up on her urgency, and hauls himself over onto the ledge just as the cloud hits.

It’s a sandstorm, but nothing like either of them had ever seen. A rumble of thunder shakes the canyon walls, and the two scramble for purchase. The sand is thick, threatening to clog their lungs with each breath. Meetra rings her arm around the pillar the rope is pulled through, clinging on as the sand stings the bare skin on her face. The heat is intense, and although the storm has blocked out the sun, she feels like her body’s on fire. Another crack of thunder, and the rock shudders as pieces of sandstone break away from its peak. She presses herself up against the pillar, flattening herself on the wall. Chunks of sandstone hail down around her, some as large as their speeder.

She doesn’t see it happen, with the wind and sand and her attention spent on not being crushed, but suddenly the rope attaching her to Atton is zipping through the window it’s looped through. She doesn’t have time to think. She sacrifices her hold on the wall to grip the rope with both hands, trying desperately to make it stop. She squints her eyes open at the area where Atton had stood and sees that the ledge has crumbled away. She takes what little Force she can feel within her and channels it to the grip on the rope sliding through her hands. The heat wears through the thick material of her gloves, stinging her hands and tearing at the skin.

The rope finally grinds to a stop in her grip. Over the roar of the wind, Meetra hears a sickening crunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahaha I don't know how to write romance that /isn't/ a slow burn okay they have such a different dynamic compared to Revan and Carth...


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, it's been a while.  
> I have had chapter 3 sitting in my drafts since July, but found myself kind of lost as to where I wanted to take this. I have an idea in mind now, but I'll be honest, I'm not sure how often I'll be posting. I really want to write this story, but I don't know if I have the time to dedicate to it right now. I've gone back through chapters 1 and 2 and made slight changes. Hopefully you'll see chapter 4 sooner than later :)

Meetra shuts her eyes, trying to hear something, _anything_ over the wind that whips around the canyon. Her arms strain under the weight of the rope, trying to ignore the lack of movement on the other side. The storm rages on, indifferent to her concerns. Meetra adjusts her position, looping one arm through the hole in the rock the rope threads through with a shaky jerk. She lets her breath out slowly, attempting to focus.

Her powers are draining, and she struggles to gather what she can feel of the Force to call out to him. It’s a weak, pathetic noise. But it pierces through the sounds of the storm that roars around her. She feels almost amplified by the lack of Force in this place. Her powers, although fragile and quiet, seem to echo in the area.

She hears it. A heartbeat. Atton’s Force pulses with an urgency, a panic. Like it’s aware of the situation in the body it houses. His Force grasps at hers the second they connect. Pain rips through the entire left side of her body, and she struggles to keep her grip on the rope. But Atton’s powers flood into her system, strengthening her own and giving her the ability to begin pulling him back up. She blocks out the storm, eyes shut, focused on bringing Atton back to her.

Meetra opens her eyes when she feels him near the edge. She ties a knot in the rope around the pillar, securing Atton in place before she makes her way over to him. She goes slowly, wind threatening to knock her over the ledge as well. It’s agonizing, seeing him so close but being unable to move quicker. He’s unconscious, and when she pulls him over the ledge, she notices the blood spotting along his left side. She pulls him half over her body, closer to the wall of the canyon, and looks around for any place to take cover. A few feet past the pillar they’re tied to lies something resembling a cave. She hopes it’s deep enough to shelter them. Another rumble of thunder, and she presses themselves against the wall to avoid any falling rock. She shelters him, putting her body between his and the storm. His face is blank, completely unconscious of his surroundings, his breathing shallow and ragged. Meetra swallows dryly, panting at the strain of holding him upright. She fumbles for her lightsaber, the beam of light singeing the sand that swirls around them, bits of glass falling around the blade. She slashes through the ropes that tie Atton and herself to the pillar before pocketing the weapon. Shifting Atton’s weight so that she’s half carrying him, half dragging him, she heads towards the cave.

Walking becomes much easier, even while holding Atton, once Meetra enters the cave. The wind hasn’t died, but it lacks the stinging sand that it carried outside. There’s a coldness, an emptiness to the area, even more so than outside. It’s as if they’re in some kind of deprivation chamber, lacking in light, warmth, and life. She lays Atton down on his back. Her skin is caked in sand, and she paws at her face before she gets a chance to see him.

His left leg is at an impossible angle, bone protruding out of his upper thigh and caking the entire area in blood. His Force still pulses an anxious beat, seemingly calling out to her for aid. She gets to work fast. She rips his pant leg up the seam, bunching the fabric around his groin to get a better look. Her heart is ramming in her chest as she presses her hands to the open wound.

Meetra tries to calm herself, allowing her power to flow from her center down to her fingertips. When was the last time she healed someone? Far away, back on Malachor V. Fighting for her life against Kreia’s wrath. She’s been trying to ignore it, what the loss of Kreia has done to her powers, but it’s blatant when she tries to summon them. Losing Kreia meant tearing away the bond that had helped regain her powers. Losing Kreia meant feeling the one thing keeping her together topple out from underneath her. Even now her Force bleeds from her, draining out just as Atton’s blood leaves his body.

But there’s something else in play. Atton’s Force focuses itself around the wound, and she can feel the heat from his power. It’s desperate - reaching towards her own powers, wrapping around and flowing from his body to hers. Pain echos across the bond, shredding up her left side from her knee to her temple. She pushes past it, focusing on the task at hand. It happens slowly but steadily - bone and muscle knitting itself back together under her touch. It sucks the breath from her lungs, making tears form at the corners of her eyes. She can feel blood dripping from her nose, her head growing dizzy with the overexertion. The wound has receded to a thick open cut when she pulls away. The bond breaks, and she is left feeling emptier than before. She gulps lungfuls of air, wiping away the sweat on her face with a shaking arm, avoiding the blood on her hands.

His breathing hasn’t improved and she moves towards his chest cautiously. Dark purple bruises and cuts scatter up his face, and his shirt is blood-spotted and weathered from scraping against the rock. His expression is still blank. It scares her more than if it were screwed up in pain. She wipes her hands on her pants before resting them on his chest. Instantly the pain screams back to life, numbing her hands and stabbing at her mind. Her side hurts. He probably has broken ribs. But Atton’s powers are there as well, pouring into her own in a desperate attempt to calm the body where they reside. She pushes her remaining energy into him, hoping she can at least stop the internal bleeding. At last Atton takes a deep breath, and Meetra passes out.

 

This time, the bruise is on the back of her head when she wakes. The sound of the wind hints that the storm hasn’t passed, and it doesn’t give any indication on how long she’s been out.

“Guess I missed the party.” Meetra turns to Atton, who’s staring at her from the corner of his eye, stuck in a permanent squint from the cuts and bruises. His voice is rough and quiet. “Would’ve liked to've been awake when you were tearing my clothes off.” Meetra slowly pulls herself up, rubbing the back of her head delicately. He’s smiling, but it doesn’t reach his eyes

“You just fell off a cliff and you’re cracking jokes.” He tries to sit up but grunts in pain, hitting the ground with a hard thud. “Don’t move, I think you have broken ribs.” Meetra warns. She moves to heal him, but he stops her.

“Not that I wouldn’t _love_ to have your hands up my shirt,” His grin fades, concerned look in his eyes. “But you gotta take a break. I know you didn’t just decide to take a nap after fixing my leg.” Meetra scrubs at the dried blood on her upper lip, frowning. “I’ll be fine for a bit.”

“Just let me set the bones.” She argues, locking eyes with him. He relents. She pulls up the edge of his shirt delicately. His entire left side is black with bruises, but luckily there’s no visible bone. She rests her hands against his abdomen and it’s like a static shock. It’s nothing like when he was unconscious. His Force jumps at the connection. It surrounds hers, mending the bones and making the skin hot to the touch. Atton groans at the feeling of his insides melding together as Meetra tries to ignore the sudden dizziness overcoming her. The bones crack into place, and she stops just as the feeling starts to go in her hands. Atton’s breathing is heavy, mirroring her own.

“That wasn’t so bad.” He muses, face distorted with pain as he sits up. He shifts himself so that he can lean against the cave wall opposite her.

Meetra reaches out, cupping his cheek with her hand. Her mind tells her to stop, to take a break, but she can’t help herself. The connection of her powers to his is intoxicating. Atton takes a deep breath when she begins. Her heartbeat picks up as the bruises and cuts fade along his face. Atton’s eyes are shut, lips slightly parted. His mind is devoid of coherent thought, but his emotions ring out clearly: relief, shock, and something else. Pleasure? An image, unwillingly given: Meetra in the waterfall, her clothes damp and sticking skin-tight to her body. She hears an echo of his voice, indiscriminable at its volume, and pushes slightly deeper.

Another image. A young jedi, sad smile on her lips, in an unfamiliar terrain. She kisses him, taking him by surprise. He pulls away, grin on his face.

_“Well…”_

Atton rips Meetra’s hand from his face. His eyes are sharp, expression furious and slightly horrored.

“I told you to stop.” Atton’s voice is level, devoid of emotion. He’s like a completely different person. Meetra has seen this before, when Atton was explaining his past. Killing Jedi, and liking it.

“I’m sorry I-” Meetra backtracks, the reality of what she’s done sinking in. “I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“Don’t lie to yourself. It doesn’t suit you.” He tosses her hand out of his grasp, sitting up straighter to get as far away from her the cave walls will allow.  His eyes are hurt, but he fakes resignation. Like he knew she would do something like this. Like it was only a matter of time. “I knew you’d worm your way in there at some point. You’re just like her.”

Meetra shakes, exhausted from the strain of the healing. He was talking about Kreia, of course, but she can’t shake the double meaning. That scene was too familiar to her. What other moments of theirs had he played out before? Was she just some sick form of punishment to him? Another Jedi to hurt and leave him?

“Like you can talk.” She spits back. “ _I_ shouldn’t lie to _my_ self? Do you even know who you are anymore?” Her shouts are sucked into the silence of the cave. She stands, brushing the dirt off her knees. “I’m not your dead girl, Atton. Don’t try to bury me.”

The distance to the opening of the cave is still too close to him. She draws her lightsaber to use as a torch, and heads deeper into the cave.

The path is narrow, only about as wide as twice her height. The cave’s height is hardly taller than herself, she could reach the ceiling with an outstretched hand. She walks until the faint light emitting from the cave entrance has faded, before jamming her lightsaber handle-first into a crevice in the cave wall, sticking the activation stud in the ‘on’ position. A small breeze whispers through the cave, a stark difference in noise from where she just was. She leans against the opposite wall, sliding down until she sits on the ground.

They’d never talked about this. Sure, there was the initial confession, when Atton had shared who he’d been, who he truly was, but that was it. After that it was long hours spent in cockpit, the silence heavy with so many things left unsaid. Because Atton’s life has always been turmoil. He spent years picking apart Jedi, turning them inside out and _enjoying_ it, because they were never there for him when he needed them. And suddenly he’s being saved by one, because it turns out he could very well become one? He’s been tossed from one side to the other too many times. He’s developed a life where he can pick up and run at any moment he feels betrayed, and Meetra has given him just that.

Meetra shuts her eyes, although the glow of her lightsaber still burns behind her eyelids. But was it actually like that? Did Atton truly ever believe in her? Or was he just waiting for her to let him down, to push him against his will or turn away, so that he could prove to himself that he doesn’t deserve redemption?

And speaking of redemption, what about her? How many acts of righteousness does it take to displace a war’s worth of wrongdoings? A hundred? A thousand? Perhaps this is why Revan did not return. Despite her path to the light, it was too late for her. Perhaps she’s right. Maybe it’s better to stay lost.

She shivers, although the temperature is no different than the opening of the cave. It’s Atton. His Force still calls to her, even after his healing. She can’t help it. She consumes his Force, takes it without trying. Even now she can feel her power relenting without Atton’s to fuel it. She’ll suck him dry before he even realizes it. That’s why Kreia had found her after all. She is the end to the Force - collecting individuals and draining them of their powers, one by one. And all the while they believe they’re the ones choosing this, that it’s something as simple as an ability to lead or inspire. She’s poison, and they’re all under her influence.

It feels like it’s been hours. She can’t decide when the best time to return would be, and with each passing moment she becomes less sure she should even bother going back. She stays, head resting on her knees, staring back the way she came, until she sees the faint light of a lightsaber glowing from a distance. It bobs with an off-balance gait, its owner not fully healed from his fall. She can feel his presence long before she can recognize his features in the dim light. His powers wash over her like warm waves. She takes a deep breath as he comes closer. What little relief she feels is overwhelmed by the anxiety of their argument. Atton retracts his lightsaber when he becomes visible under her own glow.

He drops her bag on the ground in front of her before taking a seat next to her, not too close, but not out of arm’s reach. He must have lost his bag in the fall. Her gaze switches to the ground between them, embarrassed that he had to come to her, instead of the other way around. For a moment, they sit in silence.

“When I found out you were a Jedi…” Atton pauses. “I was scared.” Meetra raises her eyes to his face. He’s staring at the wall in front of him. “I thought, ‘Can she tell? Does she know things about me that I don’t even know yet? Can I trust her?’” A pause. “I never imagined I would be the one spilling my secrets to you. Willingly.” She’s not quite sure where he’s going with this, but she doesn’t dare interrupt. “I trust you, Meetra. It’s just hard to remember that sometimes.”

“I…” It’s her turn to stare at the wall. She can feel Atton’s gaze fall upon her. “...don’t know if you should. Trust me, that is. I can feel it, your Force. It calls to me. And I take it when I can. I can’t help it. I’m just a siphon. It’ll destroy you if you stick around.” Atton scoots closer, and she chances a look his way.

“Kreia told you that,” He sounds so certain. “She’s manipulated you. It’s what she does. She reaches inside and grabs what she can to control you.” Meetra looks away, unnerved by his change in behavior.

“How do you know I haven’t done the same thing with you?” She asks, meeting his steady gaze. He shakes his head.

“You’ve never. I would’ve known.”

“And what if I’m just stealing your powers for my own benefit?”

“You can’t. When we connect…” Atton pauses, trying to find the words to describe it. “I don’t feel weaker - I feel...whole? Stronger? I can’t explain it. Besides, if you had just wanted my powers you wouldn't have healed me. Not the way you did.” Meetra glances up at his face, smooth of cuts or bruises, then over to his leg. It’s bleeding again.

“You shouldn’t have moved.” She murmurs, still processing everything he’s confessed. “If you want, I can fix it.”

“Yeah,” He smiles. “Go ahead.”

Meetra sits up, repositioning herself so that she’s kneeling in between his legs. She can see a faint blush on his cheekbones. The tattered remains of his pant leg are tied high around his thigh, and she rests a hand on the open cut. Their powers are gradual this time, linking together slowly and focusing on the wound. It’s easier than before, the flesh sealing up like it were no harder than filling a cup with water. She’s barely affected by the time she’s done, but her skin buzzes with the newfound warmth of Atton’s powers.

“Storm’s not over yet,” Atton mentions. His eyes are heavy-lidded, gaze flicking from her eyes to her lips.

“We’ll probably have to wait it out.” Meetra replies. Her hand is still on his thigh, and she strokes the skin gently with her thumb.

It’s slower this time. She leans in until their foreheads touch, eyes closed. His hand comes up to rest on her waist, the slight grip making her stomach churn. He kisses her, pulling her in closer so she’s kneeling between his legs. It’s short lived, the exhaustion of the last few hours finally taking its toll, but they stay close, noses touching and eyes closed, for a while after.

“Thanks for the whole ‘saving my life thing’, by the way.” Atton comments. Meetra smirks, looking up to see him staring back.

“Don’t thank me yet, we’ve got a long way to go.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! It's been...a while...  
> Happy Valentine's day <3

The storm is unceasing. After what feels like hours - they’ve long lost any way to tell the time in the cave - they decide to continue on. There’s only so many rounds of pazaak they can play, and it’s just not the same without anything to barter with. There’s a slight breeze that blows down the passageway, and that means there’s an exit. They have no idea how far it may be, but one quick check of the entrance proves that there’s no way they’ll be headed out that direction for a long time.

They walk in silence, the wind from the storm slowly dying as they make their way deeper into the rock. It’s pitch black, save for the faint glow of their lightsabers, illuminating not more than a few feet in front of them.

After a bit Meetra slows to a stop, holding her saber out to the side of her to warn Atton. The path ends, dropping off into darkness. She cautiously moves her weapon about the area, trying to get a better view of the situation. A deep ravine spans out in front of them. To the sides, a path no wider than she is tall borders the edge, heading off into darkness. A steady breeze flows through the area, hinting that this space must be decently large, although the light of their sabers don’t permeate the darkness well enough to tell.

“Which way?” She asks, her voice echoing slightly. She turns back to face Atton, his attention towards the void in front of them.

“Only one way to find out.” Atton decides, moving past her to walk down one of the paths bordering the chasm.

They continue along, only the slight echo from their footsteps for company. Meetra’s throat is parched. They won’t last long without water, and she had split the ration bars between their bags. They now face half the supplies they began with, and nothing to even contain water on the off chance that they find it. After a while she stops to rest, crossing her legs as she sits.

“Why are we stopping?” Atton inquires, tone somewhat frustrated. Meetra deactivates her lightsaber before setting it on the ground next to her.

“We have to find a solution to our water problem.” She shuts her eyes. Kreia taught her once, how to use the Force when even oxygen wasn’t available for use. Surely there has to be a way to live similarly without water, although she’ll have to find it herself.

“You think meditating’s gonna be faster than trying to find the exit?” The question is genuine, despite Atton’s tone.

“If anything maybe I can find the end of the cave.” She explains. She doesn’t see it, but she hears the _thump_ as Atton sits down next to her, keeping his lightsaber activated. She isn’t sure if he’s joining her in meditation or if he’s just waiting for her to give up. Either way, she forces herself to focus.

The rest of her body falls away, and she’s left with her mind. She sees images, just out of her grasp, fuzzy and muted. She can feel her Force, ever draining. And she can feel Atton’s powers, brimming with unexhausted energy. She draws back, worried it’ll end just like before.

She’s frustrated. Why was so much prestige placed on her? She’s useless, couldn’t even properly heal someone without causing issue. Now that they’re out of reach from Kreia’s hand, off the worlds that seemed so interconnected with their mission, it all seems so small. It’s like the shifting sands on this planet. The harsh winds that have been wearing down the rock since before time itself. Their journey was just a quick gust in comparison to it all. And this ground has been dead for years. Even if they bring all the water they could carry, this dirt could never create life.

Meetra tries to concentrate, but she comes up with nothing. All she can feel is Atton’s Force, pulsing softly on the other side of the cave. The air has grown cold, a sign that the suns have set, or that they’re too far in to feel their rays. Another night away from the _Ebon Hawk_. What are the chances they’ll be able to find the station? What are the chances they’ll even make it out of this cave alive? And even after all that, then what? The question worms its way back into her mind, despite her attempts to push it from her head.

And then there’s that vision. The one of Atton and his dead Jedi, that she had ripped from his consciousness. She had done so with such little effort, such little regard to Atton’s fragile boundaries. Forgiven or not, she feels like she stole something from him. The temptation of Atton’s Force had been too much for her to resist, and she fears what her weakening powers will do to that lack of will.

She breaks out of meditation with a snap as the ground lets out an unsettling shudder. Atton’s already to his feet, squatting, waiting for another quake. Another tremor, stronger this time, and a crash echoes down the cave, coming from the entrance. Meetra meets Atton’s gaze.

“ _Run_.”

No sooner than she speaks, the ground shifts underneath them. Chunks of rock hail from the ceiling. They break into a sprint, just barely keeping ahead of the falling debris. Atton keeps his lightsaber powered on, holding it in front of them as they try to keep their balance while moving as fast they can. Meetra keeps her hand out at her side, trailing the cave wall with her fingers, adjusting her position with any shift in the cave’s direction. The only thing she can see is the glow of Atton’s saber, blocked by his silhouette.

She hears Atton curse, barely registers the light in front of her falling out of sight before the ground below her drops sharply. She slips, arms pinwheeling and legs scrambling for purchase in the dark, until she lands with a dry crack of bones, hard on the rock below.

 

Meetra’s vision is watery, vague shapes slowly shifting into focus, fading in and out like waves. She stands on the edge of a room, circular in shape, lit only by the containment field in the center. The blue light sparks and crackles, encircling the wrists and ankles of its captive. Meetra recognizes her. She’s Atton’s dead Jedi. Meetra tries to focus on her face, but finds that any time she tries to discern anything, the space around the woman shifts out of focus. She’s beaten and bruised, the marks of torture up and down her body, her clothing hanging off of her like rags.

Atton steps out from behind the woman, circling her as she slowly turns about in the space. He looks younger, but his face is hardened, predatory. This is Atton working under the Sith.

“I pity you,” The woman says, voice surprisingly clear despite her rough appearance. “You think you’re acting of your own accord. Don’t think that you’re not being used, just like before.” Atton stops in front of her, back towards Meetra.

“I thought we’ve been through this,” he replies. “Your Jedi mind games don’t work on me.”

“-And why is that?” She shoots back. “Have you ever stopped to think why you’re so good at what you do?” Atton stays silent. “They’re going to find out. And when they do, they’re going to throw you away just like the rest of us.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Atton snaps, obviously annoyed by the Jedi’s accusations. He fidgets, returning to pace around the containment field.

“You don’t know.” The Jedi sounds shocked, her voice quieter, less defiant than before. “You’ve blocked it out. You’re so determined to shield yourself from others, you’ve hidden it from yourself as well.”

“That’s _enough_.” Atton warns, his voice wavering slightly. He turns to pace the other way.

“How many times have you pushed the truth away?” Her voice raises in volume. “How much longer are you going to lie to yourself? _Do you even know who you are anymore?_ ”

Atton starts toward her, shouting, but Meetra can’t hear his words. The vision wavers out of focus, images bleeding into black. The last thing she sees is Atton exiting the room, leaving the Jedi alone in the chamber.

 

Meetra awakes with a shuddering gasp. She’s on her side, sprawled out on the ground, in complete darkness. She tries to sit up, but a shock of pain in her left arm forces her back down. Must be broken. Her leg lays at an awkward angle, and a gentle flex proves that it’s injured as well. Her mind races. What had she just seen? Another memory of Atton’s? Where even _was_ he? Meetra reaches out with the Force,

-and feels nothing. She can’t sense anything. It’s like the slow bleed of her powers have finally run dry. Her pulse picks up, heart dropping low in her stomach. She feels nothing but the dirt she lies on, can hear nothing but her own rapid breathing. She had used the last of her powers unconsciously, to take one last memory from Atton. Had he survived the fall? Did he feel whatever had come over her when she looked inside his mind?

Atton’s lightsaber powers on, illuminating the area. He’s far on the other side at the bottom of the ravine. He stands with ease, turning on the spot and looking about. The light travels up the walls; she can’t see where they had fallen from. The ground seems to dip, slanting away from them into the darkness. If there’s an exit, she can’t see it.

“Meetra?” He calls, his voice echoing against the cave walls. She shifts, sitting up without putting weight on her bad arm and leg. Atton sees her, quickly making his way to where she sits.

He kneels beside her, passing his saber over her to see her injuries. There’s no blood; her leg isn’t nearly as bad as Atton’s was.

“Are you alright?” He looks shaken. Maybe he _had_ felt it when she invaded his memories.

“I saw your dead Jedi again,” Meetra’s voice is shaking. Atton’s expression falls. “I didn’t even try this time. It doesn’t matter what I try to do when I’m awake because _this_ is what happens-”

“-woah, slow down.” Atton says, the ringing in the chamber making her realize just how loud she was speaking. “Meetra,” He starts after a beat of silence. “You can’t be responsible for what-”

“-Face the facts, Atton!” Meetra cuts him off. “I can’t feel _anything_ anymore…” She shifts, flinching when she leans on her arm oddly. “Kreia was _right_. I’m the end to the Force, and you need to get away from me if you want to make it out of here.”

Meetra thinks of Revan, leaving after achieving what she thought was redemption. Perhaps there isn’t a place for people who bring about this much destruction, who are responsible for this much collateral damage. Maybe they’re meant to wander, far away from those they threaten to harm.

“I don’t have any direction after this.” She admits. “I don’t even know what I’m going to do once we get out of this damn cave.”

“Kriff, Meetra,” Atton curses. “That’s a lie and you know it.” He adjusts his position so he’s kneeling closer to her. “No, I think you know what you want.”

At this, she pauses. “What do I want?” Her voice is quiet, like the question seems foreign to her. “I’m just... _sick_ of having what I believe in thrown back in my face because of the corruption of who I care about. I’m _sick_ of seeing others fall because of me, and I’m _sick_ of being a _wound in the galaxy._ ” She reels in her volume, she’s shouting again. “I want to do what’s _right_ , not follow someone else’s plans.” Atton looks to the ground, in the space between them.

“You saw her after you fell, right? You got knocked out?” Atton asks. Meetra doesn’t respond, watching him warily. “It was just for a moment...but I saw Atris.” He meets her eyes. “You were with her. She was shouting, it almost looked like before you got...cast out.” Meetra remembers it well. It was the final act that ripped her beliefs in the Jedi Order away from her. He pauses again before continuing.

“I know what you saw, it was the day I started to doubt what I served. And I think that’s what Atris was to you.” He shifts again, getting a bit closer. “Don’t you see? There’s something happening here. And it’s not you stealing my powers.” Meetra is silent. Atton exhales audibly. “I...would never trust the Jedi Order. Even now. I’ve been let down too many times. But you? You’re...inspiring. And I think we can prove that we’re more than the tools we’ve been used as. We deserve more than that.”

She hears his words, but they don’t seem to take hold. How can she, sitting broken on the cold cave floor, be inspiring to anyone? Her senses feel muted, save for the pulsing in her injured limbs. She focuses on Atton’s expectant expression, unsure how to respond.

“Let me heal you.” Atton says, setting his lightsaber down, keeping the blade ignited.

“You don’t know how to heal.” Meetra’s throat feels raw from her shouting. She takes a sore swallow.

“Then _teach_ me.” he urges. He turns to rest a hand on her broken arm. It feels numb to his touch. “I know I won’t be able to do fix you as well as you did me, but let me _try_.”

“Atton, it’s _gone_. I can’t feel the Force anymore. And if you try to help me you’re just going to lose it too.” Her frustration shows in her tone.

“Just _stop!_ ” Atton snaps. “Let me help you, dammit.” He pauses, taking a few deep breaths. “All you have been doing is giving. Stop thinking that teaching me to use the Force is somehow hurting me. It’s what I want. You can’t keep feeling like you owe me, like you owe any of us.”

Meetra sighs, shutting her eyes in defeat, before shifting slightly to a more comfortable position. Atton rests both of his hands on her arm, where the bone is split. Atton takes a deep breath, locking his gaze on her eyes, and begins to channel his Force.

There’s spark, a pinprick of Meetra’s heightened senses returning to her system. She gasps aloud, reaching forward to rest her hand on his despite the stinging from her broken arm.

“There, that’s it.” Atton whispers. She can hear the smile in his voice, but her eyes are unfocused. It’s like a flood, heat pouring from his fingertips and seeping into her skin. Her body seems to amplify Atton’s powers, sending a flood of raw emotions across the bond they’ve formed. He was right, she feels _whole_. Her vision grows spotty, the heat from his hands making its way through her body. She loses track of time. At some point she presses forward, trying to cover herself in more of his touch. She’s blinded, only able to focus on every desperate grab and labored sigh as her vision turns to a brilliant white, and her consciousness fades away.


	5. Chapter 5

Meetra’s not sure where she is when she awakes. The ground beneath her is damp and soft, and the air carries a chill that’s uncommon for what they’ve known of the planet. There’s a trickling echoing through the chamber. She slowly opens her eyes.

Atton lays beside her, close enough to touch. His expression is neutral, not haunted by nightmares, but not granted the peace of true sleep. She shifts to sit up, and he opens his eyes.

The first thing she notices is that feeling. That indeterminable, indescribable feeling of the Force, pulsing through her system. A delicate hum that’s returned to her body. The wound in her powers doesn’t feel gone, not completely at least. But the drain has stilled for the time being. She can’t help but recognize that it was Atton’s influence that made it so.

The second thing she notices is that her arm and leg have healed. Perhaps not as well as if she had done it herself, but the bones have mended, even if they’re a little tender.

It occurs to her, almost as an afterthought, that there’s light in the chasm, coming from the edge where the rock drops off to the depths below, and that she’s surrounded by greenery. Tall reeds circle the two of them, and a small stream passes through the earth alongside them, dropping off in the same direction where the light comes from. The plants seem to stem from where they sit, and travel alongside the stream to where it disappears.

“What the…” Atton’s voice trails off, but Meetra is already making her way towards the stream. She cups a handful of water, bringing it cautiously to her mouth, worried that it’ll disappear like some too-hopeful dream. The water is cool and silty. She takes a few more sips before turning back to Atton

“Would’ya look at that,” Atton’s gaze travels across her former injuries from his place on the ground. There’s an air of awkwardness between the two. Their argument still hangs in the emptiness of the chasm. He looks to her.

“You doin’ alright?” He asks. She exhales sharply. There are a lot of ways to answer that question.

“Atton, how are you doing?” She replies almost too quickly. How can he even begin to ask after her when he’s going through just as much? “How do you do it? How do you keep moving after all of this?” He waits a bit before he replies.

“You can’t change the past.” He states. “Some things you gotta take with you.” And maybe that’s it. Maybe the answer isn’t learning how to bury your past. Maybe it’s learning to carry it with you.

“Thank you,” Meetra continues after a beat. “For healing me...and…” she’s not sure how to finish that statement. For believing in me? For making sure I don’t fall apart when you’re just as broken? Words are just words. They fall stale on her lips.

Atton avoids her gaze. His honesty seems uncharacteristic of him in the light of day.

“Don’t mention it.” He replies. Meetra’s caught between wanting their old banter back and pushing further, peering into the part of Atton that he so rarely shows. But for everything that he’s been able to give her in the last few days, she resists.

“Looks like we found our way out,” Atton nods toward the light. Meetra offers a hand to him, and she pulls him to his feet. They pause, a little closer together than normal, hands still clasped. He smirks, lips parted, waiting for her response. She kisses him, ending it before he has much of a chance to react.

“Let’s get out of here.”

They spend the next few hours picking their way down the rocky slope towards the light. Perhaps it had been night out when they fell, or perhaps the quake had jostled free an exit, either way they step out into the bright light of midday. The sun is blinding, no trace of the strange storm that had forced them to seek shelter. The wind is harsh, but it’s a blessing compared to the eerie silence that had permeated the cave. The small fueling station they had spotted before lies at the bottom of the canyon they’ve emerged from. They’re a great deal further down than where they had initially climbed to, and they make quick work of getting down to ground level.

The town consists of a cantina and several shops selling parts for droids, ships, and the like. How a colony even manages to make a living out here is beyond the two of them, but they focus their priorities on buying the parts they need. After a few mind tricks and some haggling, they manage to walk away with what they came there for just as the suns are setting in the sky.

Exhausted and unsure on how they’re going to get back to the Ebon Hawk, they make their way over to the local cantina. Inside the air is dusty and throws the lighting into a dreary haze. The cantina isn’t packed, but every table has at least one seat taken. The patrons are mostly human, but a few aqualish and trandoshan are scattered amongst the group. Meetra and Atton take their places at the bar, ordering glasses of ale and going over their options in hushed voices. There’s no live music, but a garbled singing crackles through a speaker in the corner of the room. Although they try to keep their heads low, all eyes lock onto the two of them. Unsurprisingly, the patrons must not be used to strangers.

It doesn’t take long for a gruff-looking man to approach Atton, shoving him roughly on the shoulder so that he faces the stranger.

“Let me sit next to the lady,” he grunts. Meetra makes a face.

“Kriff off,” she mutters before going back to her drink. Atton brushes his shoulder off pointedly before replying.

“I don’t think she’s interested, buddy.” He holds his stare with the bargoer until they drop their gaze. Atton smirks, but his expression falters when he notices the stranger staring at his hip.

“Interesting...” The man comments, their voice loud enough to raise the attention of the rest of the cantina. “What a treat to have Jedi joining us tonight…” Atton’s hand goes to his lightsaber, narrowing his eyes at the patrons that have raised from their seats to surround the two.

Everything happens at once. Atton tosses the rest of his drink in the stranger’s face, Meetra ducks under the bar, and the cantina explodes into chaos. Bar stools are upheaved, glasses shatter on the floor, and the two dodge and scrape their way towards the exit. But the trip has been long and hard, and their exhaustion is overwhelming. Meetra’s recently injured arm seems to falter, and one sharp jab to the spot sends her to the floor. The last thing she sees before a kick to the head is a bottle cracking over the back of Atton’s skull.

Meetra awakes with a pounding in her head that reminds her how often she’s fallen unconscious in the past few days. Her limbs are tied, a blindfold secured so tightly that she can’t even open her eyes, and her mouth is gagged. There’s a slight vibration from the ground where she’s sitting, and she guesses that she must be on a ship, although it’s still on planet. Her captor must have never met Jedi before, since her restraints can easily be undone, but she waits until she understands the situation she’s in.

She’s mostly uninjured, and she can tell by shifting her weight that her lightsaber is no longer clipped to her belt loop. The remote silence makes her believe that she’s somewhere in a cargo hold of a ship. Her body is thrumming with unexhausted energy of the Force, and she taps into that power to see if she can find the location of the ship’s owner. A mind, unguarded and loud, is pacing at the cockpit, and another, significantly more muted, in another area of the ship.

She hesitates. His words from earlier that day still echo in her mind. She knows that Atton’s mind is clouded with nightmares, ones he isn’t trying to move on from, and he doesn’t expect to. And maybe that’s the problem that she’s been trying to conquer with redemption. It’s all about balance. And she’ll waste her life away if she spends it trying to find that equilibrium.

She pushes a thought as delicately as she can into his mind, trying not to go deeper than absolutely necessary.

Atton?

His consciousness recoils for a moment, but eventually reaches out to hers. It’s foggy and hard to navigate in this space, but she restrains herself from trying to clear the waters.

Compared to what we just walked out of, this should be pure pazaak. He muses.

If it were so simple, we wouldn’t have gotten caught in the first place. She returns. A wave of relief echos across the bond, and she’s dropped out of his consciousness. She’s already unravelling the bindings on her wrists. When they drop to the floor, she takes the gag from her mouth and the blindfold off of her eyes. She was right, she’s been stuffed in an overfilled cargo hold. Across the room she can see the bag where their recently purchased parts lay. Her lightsaber isn’t anywhere near, but she expects it to be on the ship. The door to the hold whooshes open as she peers into the hallway. The ship looks like a small skipray blastboat, about half the size of the Ebon Hawk at most. She's been on ships like this before, and their layout is clear in her mind.

Meetra slinks over to the cockpit, armed with nothing more than a spare hypermatter reactor igniter she had grabbed from the cargo hold. The pilot, the man who had cornered Atton at the cantina, is whistling loudly, moving about the room and preparing the ship for takeoff. Through the transparasteel, she can see the inky black of the night sky stretched over the endless desert. The town is still in sight, glimmering slightly in the distance. The pilot doesn’t notice her, and it doesn’t take long to smash the hunk of metal into their captor’s head. They fall to the ground with a heavy thud. Atton enters the room just as she’s trying to haul the body to the door. He joins her wordlessly, and they toss the unconscious man off the ship. He comes to just as the landing ramp is ascending, and Atton waves a salute before they take off.

Meetra coasts the ship shallowly over the desert until they’re sure they can’t be followed on foot. She sets the blastboat down behind a particularly large sand dune, out of sight from the town. The two work in silence, checking frequencies and scanning the ship so they know they can't be followed.

And then, a pause. Meetra turns in the pilot’s seat so that she’s facing Atton, unsure how to proceed.

“Bao-Dur’s signal won’t get sent out until dawn.” Meetra states, standing so that she’s a few paces away from Atton.

“Guess we’ll have to wait it out.” He replies, looking out past her at the desert that lays before them. He exhales deeply. Each breath seems to weigh on the two of them. They had been on the run for so long. And now? What was next? His eyes return to hers, and he smiles. Meetra approaches him slowly, closing the gap between the two of them. Atton reaches out to set his hands on her waist. They stay still for a moment, foreheads pressed together, reveling in the fact that for the first time in far too long, they can be at peace, or at least as close to it as their pasts will allow.

She presses her lips to his, and she’s met with eager reply. Atton’s hands coast up her back, one threading up through her hair. Her hands rest on either side of his face, pulling him in closer. He tastes like salt and sweat, and there’s a thin film of sand coating their skin that grits under her touch. She breaks the kiss suddenly.

“Nope, no.” She backs away from him. “This feels disgusting, I need a shower.”

“...Seriously?” Atton stands before her, hands still holding the air where she had stood. He pauses before regaining his composure. “At least let me join you?”

She wants to deny him, just to watch that easy smile fall from his lips, but the proposition is too tempting to resist.

The refresher isn’t a particularly large space, but it’s not cramped. Meetra unfurls her cloak, letting it fall into a heap on the floor. Piece by piece the rest of their garments fall to the ground, hands and lips traveling the newfound skin exposed. Meetra guides Atton into the shower before turning the water on. The dirt from their skin and hair drains away, leaving a trail of red water below their feet.

Atton’s lips travel down the soft spots of Meetra’s neck, his hands holding her flush against himself. Meetra’s kisses are sharp, biting, and every time she captures Atton’s lips between her teeth he lets out a groan that she can feel along his entire body.

There’s a moment, when they stand in each other’s arms, letting the last remains of the red dirt drain from their hair, eyes locked on each other. Just for a second, their minds don’t feel so heavy.

They dry themselves off and make their way to the crew quarters, tripping over each other, trying to stay in contact while maneuvering about the ship. Meetra lays down on one of the beds, watching him with lidded eyes as he visibly swallows.

“You seem out of words, for once, Atton.” Meetra chides.

“Don’t get used to it.” He shoots back, smiling.

Meetra always figured that Atton would be as vocal as ever in bed. Always quick with the one liners and quips, a preemptive measure to avoid exposing his true self. And he was. But this was different. Here, it‘s all reactions. A curse when she finds the right way to shift alongside him, the feeling when his body pulses as she moans his name, and that ragged breathing in her ear when he’s close to the edge.

They lay together for hours afterwards, Atton tracing his fingers along Meetra’s back, her face in the crook of his neck. It’s something she never thought she’d feel. This kind of quiet peace, of knowing that there’s a lot on the road ahead, of knowing that nobody’s demons are quite yet satiated, but seeing that she doesn’t have to face it alone.

Kreia was right: it was no coincidence that they all managed to find each other as they did. But perhaps it was to build, rather than destroy. Because they know what it feels like to fall, to turn away, to take the easier path, and perhaps that’s just what they need to keep it from happening to others. They’re imperfect beings, but what better than them to help show others that they can be more than what they think they can be?

Tomorrow they would start on that journey, to rebuild the Jedi Order. But for the night Meetra and Atton fall asleep in each other’s arms, feeling safe for the first time in forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me, guys. This chapters been a long time coming.


End file.
